The Enchanted Snake
by Lady Proserpina
Summary: Cursed for his failure, Draco seeks redemption. Cursed by her success, a lonely Hermione makes an unusual choice. Can these two save each other along the way?


**Author: **Lady Proserpina  
**Email: **LadyProserpina  
**Rating: **T **  
Warnings:** EWE. Maybe a little OOC.**  
Pairings: **Draco/Hermione  
**Status:** WIP

**Important Info:** This is loosely based off of two folk tales. _The Enchanted Snake_ is an Italian folk tale and _East of the Sun and West of the Moon_ is a Norwegian folk tale. Of course, you may be familiar with the tropes from another country's tale. I have combined the two to create the story you will read below.

I was going to wait to post this until it's completed. But then I had a mid-life crisis and had to do _something_ fun and creative. It's not done. I don't know when it will be done. I know where it's going, but finding time to write between teaching and grad school is hard.

**Summary:** In his last year at Hogwarts, Draco is given a dark potion by Bellatrix unless he can prove that he isn't a failure. When she dies in battle, the potion takes full effect. After hiding in the Forbidden Forest for a few months, Draco is given a chance to live his life again. He crosses paths with Auror Hermione Granger when he unintentionally helps capture a wanted criminal. Together, the two learn that people can change, and that maybe life is worth living.

**Credits:** _Harry Potter_ belongs to J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. I don't claim to own anything. However, I do kindly request that you don't steal my ideas. I am earning nothing from this other then writing experience and minor fanfiction fame.

**Part I**

Easter Break was Hogwarts' dumbest holiday, in Draco's opinion. He really didn't want to be home at the manor, but his mother insisted that he come home whenever he was able. He had no choice but to return during the week-long holiday break. Hogwarts wasn't particularly enjoyable this year, but it was far better than spending his time in the Death Eater-infested Manor.

Draco was not having a good day. A good year, really. Once he thought about it, he wondered if he ever had had a year, or even a day, that could have been classified as "good." Certainly not in recent memory. Things had been going downhill since Lucius' failings in the Department of Mysteries. Since then, Draco had been set up for failure wherever he went, no matter what he did.

Failure to live up to his family obligations to be the best.

Failure to kill Dumbledore.

Failure to identify Hermione Granger when she appeared in his manor.

Failure to help her, despite his misgivings.

Failure to live up to everyone's expectations.

Draco had often thought about defecting to the Order, but that would mean a Failure to commit to something. In the end, commitment was all he had left to succeed at.

A house elf appeared next to his chair with a _crack_, disrupting his train of thought. "Mistress Bellatrix is sending Master Draco his dinner. She is making sure Master Draco is eating enough. Is Master Draco wanting something else?" Draco noticed that the elf flinched back, as if it expected a punishment for bringing him dinner.

Draco simply lounged back in the chair, back in his mire of depression, and waved the elf away. A languid glance toward the window told him that he had been sitting there longer than he thought; it was already fully dark outside. He had clearly missed dinner with the rest of the Death Eaters.

No matter. Dinner with Voldemort tended to be an unpleasant experience. He was surprised that no one had fetched him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Draco regarded the dinner platter with suspicious eyes. It was pretty uncharacteristic for Bellatrix to care about him, let alone make sure that he was fed. A thought of poison crossed his mind, but that wasn't Bellatrix's style either. She preferred to watch her victims suffer. Not wanting to exert the effort required to call the elf back, Draco ate the dinner that was provided. He figured that the worst that could happen would be Failure to survive the war, which wasn't a bad failure, in his opinion.

Throughout the next month, Draco's depression hovered at barely-above-suicidal levels. Yet another failure for his list: Failure to work up the courage to escape. He did notice more and more people commenting on his pallor. He was sent to Madame Pomfrey twice in the first three weeks after break, but she could never find anything wrong. She would only give him chocolate and grumble about stress. He felt physically fine, so he didn't worry about it.

The next weekend, he saw Bellatrix when she visited the Carrows to check on the school. The smirk on her face made him cringe. Draco wondered which student was getting punished this time.

Another week passed, and Draco spent a day at the manor with his mother. Narcissa also commented on his paleness, but she didn't have any suggestions either. They passed Bellatrix on their way to the main Floo fireplace. Draco froze in fear as she walked away, cackling with insane laughter.

On Wednesday of that week, Draco received a note in the post.

_My dearest nephew,_

_It has come to my attention that you have failed us yet again. The Dark Lord tells me that you are making slow progress on your latest task, and such a failure is unacceptable. It sullies the good names of Black and Malfoy. _

_Six weeks ago you ate a dinner laced with a potion intended to punish you for your endless shortcomings. You have until the end of the month to prove that you can actually succeed at something. If you do, I will give you the antidote. If you don't, the potion runs its course, and there is nothing I can do to help you._

_Failure is such a disappointment,_

_Bellatrix Lestrange_

Draco's blood ran cold. He'd been poisoned for six months now and he hadn't known it! He only had two weeks to prove that he wasn't an utter failure. How was he supposed to do that? Catch and kill Potter himself?

The next two weeks were a haze of work as Draco tried to glean the location of Potter, Weasley, and Granger from the students remaining at Hogwarts. He spent a lot of time in the library buried in books. Draco ate little and barely slept. One morning he woke up in the hospital wing after collapsing in Charms class the day before.

Another failure: Failure to care for himself.

In the aftermath of the Battle of Hogwarts, nobody was quite sure what happened to Draco Malfoy. He wasn't among the dead, nor was he with his parents. As days passed, the disappearance of Draco Malfoy slipped from thought until only Lucius and Narcissa, on the run themselves, bothered to search.

For most of Wizarding Britain, Draco Malfoy failed to exist.

* * *

Draco knew that he was done for as soon as he saw his Aunt fall to Molly Weasley. What point was there to fight anymore, if his hope of a cure was lost? It wasn't as if he cared if Voldemort won anyway. Why fight for a cause he had ceased to believe in? With that, Draco withdrew from battle.

He had intended to hide in an empty classroom until the end of the battle. He didn't care who won; he was dead anyway. His month was nearly up.

A great pain suddenly shot through his chest. Draco gasped for breath, realizing the truth of his shortened life: this was the poison taking effect. Bellatrix's survival wouldn't have saved him. Feeling like his skin was on fire, Draco shot out of the classroom, through the main doors, and down towards the forbidden forest. If he had to die a horrible, poison-caused death, he was going to do it where no one would be able to witness his final failure.

The pain was excruciating. Draco felt like his bones were melting, and he finally gave in to unconsciousness and collapsed just inside the forest limits.

* * *

When he awoke, Draco decided that fleeing the battle was the smartest thing he had ever done. He had survived. As soon as this occurred to him, Draco was hit with three realizations: he was still alive, he was pressed face-down on the forest floor, covered by some kind of blanket, and he was still alive! Bellatrix's potion had failed!

Draco nearly jumped for joy, until he discovered that he couldn't move any of his limbs. He shook his head to focus his thoughts and let out a hiss of pain- his neck hurt.

This gave Draco pause. Not the pain in his neck, but the hiss of pain. "That hurts," he said aloud, breathing a sigh of relief to discover that he was still able to speak. Still normal. He breathed another sigh of relief. That was when he saw it. A long, red appendage with a forked tip that moved whenever he moved his tongue.

In a panic, Draco wriggled out from underneath the blanket, paralyzed limbs be damned. What he saw made him wish that he was still unconscious. In place of his emaciated, sickly-pale body was a length of grey-green scales. A snake. Bellatrix's poison had turned him into a snake. Overwhelmed by the past twenty-four hours, Draco wanted to cry. This only vexed him more, as his snake eyes were unable to produce proper tears.

Draco heard a sharp crack and realized that someone was in the forest nearby. Not wanting to be found in this state, Draco fled, slithering as fast as he could, awakening his new muscles as he went.

Deep in the Forbidden Forest, Draco examined his new body. This was Bellatrix's final -and worst- punishment, he decided. Not only had she turned him into a snake, she had turned him into a grass snake, the most pathetic snake Draco could think of. There was no way he could face his family after this. It was too embarrassing, even if they did believe him.

Draco spent the next few months living in the Forbidden Forest, eating frogs, fish, and small birds. As winter approached, he realized that he needed to find shelter for over the winter. Not only could his new body not handle the cold well, he was getting very lonely. He couldn't speak Parseltongue to communicate with other snakes, and the few creatures in the forest who spoke English wanted nothing to do with a cursed being like him. With that thought in mind, Draco set out for Hogsmeade.

He spent the better part of three days slithering around the gardens of Hogsmeade. In those three days, he'd been chased by rakes and brooms, whacked at with shovels, and thrown into a rubbish bin. He felt even lonelier, knowing that humans didn't want him either. Curled up in a new garden, Draco attempted to take a nap. Escaping angry housewives was hard work, and he was exhausted.

A soft sigh startled Draco awake. It was the first human noise that he'd heard in a long time which didn't contain fear or contempt. He became aware of an elderly woman kneeling down, not too far from his resting place.

"Even the snakes in my garden have peace," she was saying, "They have homes and families, and they're not doomed to be alone."

Draco raised his head and regarded the woman. She looked warm and matronly, but she had a sad smile on her face. She also seemed like she understood his feelings.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, young snake," she said, noticing that Draco was now looking at her. "You looked so content, I just had to pause. You see, I have no nearby family, and I'm ever so lonely. I just want someone to keep me company in my old age. Look at me, reduced to talking to snakes!" A tear slid down the old woman's face.

Not fully recognizing the feeling of sympathy that swept through him, Draco couldn't help but reply. "I'm just as lonely as you! I will be company for you, if you'll have me."

For the first time in his life, Draco felt unsure about whether or not he wanted his offer to be accepted. Before, he felt confident simply based on his blood and family name. Now, he had no guarantees.

He was lucky that this was not a paranoid woman, Draco decided as she carried him into the house. She had received his offer with a smile and had immediately picked him up to carry him inside.

The woman set him down on a chair and eased herself down on a neighboring couch. "Welcome to my home, dear. I'm Gertrude Price. Mr. Snake, do you have a name? And how did you come by the ability to speak?"

"My name is," Draco paused, unwilling to reveal his true identity when he was so close to escaping it, "Drew. My name is Drew. My ability to speak was granted by magic, of course, although I haven't used it much." Draco congratulated himself on not revealing the true nature of his affliction. He hoped that Ms. Price wouldn't try to dig deeper into the origins of this "magic."

"How long have you had this power, Drew? You use it very well; you must be used to speaking, young -er- snake." She paused a moment, but Draco stayed quiet, unsure how to answer. "Everyone seems young when you're as old as I am, Drew. Can snakes sound young? I think you do, but you could be old for a snake and you'd be young to me. Listen to me ramble. An old bat in every way, just as my neighbors say."

Draco remained quiet, still unsure what to say. How long did a grass snake live? Certainly not seventeen years, no, eighteen years. He heaved a sigh as he realized that he had missed his birthday while he was in the forest. Was anyone still looking for him? Did his parents even survive the battle? Draco slumped down in the chair, forgetting to answer the woman at all.

"Is something wrong, Drew?" She asked.

"I… I miss my family," Draco finally replied. "They might not even be alive, but I'll never see them again anyway." This sorrow was a new feeling for Draco, and he wasn't sure that he liked it. Before his transformation, he had never wanted for anything. Before now, he had hated and feared his father and had loved his mother. They might not have been the best parents, but they had always been there. The idea of wanting something in vain was entirely new. Even during the worst parts of his life, he'd always known that at least one of his parents would be there for him. Draco felt like crying, but his serpentine body prevented tears.

Ms. Price placed a comforting hand on Draco's back. "I know, dear. It's hard, but you'll get through it. I'll be right here with you," she soothed. Draco, exhausted by the past few days and his sorrow, fell asleep as she petted him gently.

* * *

In this way, two lonely people found solace in each other. As the years passed, Draco came to love Ms. Price as the loving family he never had. For the first time in his life, Draco felt truly happy. He often caught himself feeling grateful to Bellatrix for her curse. This was not a thought that he analyzed over the years, but he felt it just the same.

With Ms. Price, Draco shed his old identity as he shed his snake skin each season. With each year, a little more of the old, troubled Draco Malfoy passed away. By the time Draco's fifth anniversary with Ms. Price approached, Draco felt like an entirely different person.

Draco knew that Ms. Price considered their anniversary celebrations to be akin to Drew's birthday, since he refused to tell her when his real birthday was or how old he was. He was fine with this arrangement. He knew that he would have turned 23 this year as a human, but he realized that it was pointless to keep track.

In a way, he had no desire to return to his human life. Here, he was loved and cared for, away from the pressures of a high-profile life.

Draco was, however, very lonely. Ms. Price had few friends, so she rarely had company. They agreed that it would be best if very few people knew about him, so Draco had no contact with other people.

That morning, Draco and Ms. Price were eating breakfast when a faint tapping began at the window. Ms. Price, who was slowing down in her old age, opened the window to let in a barn owl. The owl paused long enough for Ms. Price to untie a letter before swooping towards the snake on the table. Draco hissed and fled under a cushion. Ms. Price was left to chase the owl out, letter forgotten.

Free of the owl, they returned to breakfast.

"Drew, dear, what do you want to do today?" Ms. Price asked.

Draco thought for a moment. "There's a book that I'd like to read, if you could pick it up for me," he said finally. "Then we can read it together." He did very little but read anymore, because his body was ill-suited to many leisure activities. If Draco missed anything, it was Quidditch. "It just came out; _Modern Quidditch: Firebolt 5 Through the Platinum Snitch_, by Maximillian Archaius."

Ms. Price smiled. No matter how many times that Drew insisted he was a simple snake, there were times when he proved himself wrong. His obsession with Quidditch, which she hadn't even listened to on the Wizarding Wireless before he came along, was one such thing. Either way, she figured that the boy must have had his reasons. He wasn't a problem to have in the house, and she'd come to care for him like a grandson.

"Of course, dear. I'll visit the book shop after I wash the dishes. Then maybe we can read together for a while."

"I'd like that," Draco bobbed his head in a nod.

After Ms. Price grabbed her bag and left, Draco pondered what this day meant for him. It was essentially his 23rd birthday, after all. Had he stayed human, Draco mused, he'd probably be married off to some stuck up, high society witch by now. Perhaps this wasn't so bad.

Draco off-handedly scanned the room, and his eyes alighted on the barn owl's letter. Finding it odd that the letter wasn't addressed to _Ms. Price_ but rather _28 Willoughby Lane, Hogsmeade_, Draco opened the seal. His eyes widened at what he found inside.

_Residents of Hogsmeade are hereby warned that a wanted criminal has been sighted in the area. Be advised to stay indoors, out of sight of windows until you are alerted to his capture_

_Ministry Auror Office RW_

Immediately realizing the danger this posed to Ms. Price, Draco left the house as fast as he could slither. He didn't even take the time to appreciate that this was the first time he'd been in a public place since Ms. Price had adopted him five years ago. He didn't pause to think about how he had to leave through the kitchen window. He didn't consider how, exactly, a grass snake was going to stop a wanted criminal. He just knew that Ms. Price was worth saving.

Draco sped towards the main road, where the book shop was located. Hopefully he'd catch her and get her to head inside somewhere to be safe. He wondered who the criminal was, since the Aurors felt the need to warn the community about him.

Whipping around the corner, Draco found himself in the middle of his worst nightmare: a stand-off. Witches and Wizards in Auror robes stood just off to his left. Most had their wands trained on the figure to his right, where a man had a woman held against himself like a human shield.

He recognized the woman right away as Ms. Price. It took him a little longer to recognize the man.

Lucius Malfoy.

The Aurors had their wands trained on Lucius. Lucius had his wand trained on the back of Ms. Price's head. Draco felt his body freezing in terror at the scene.

He hadn't seen his father in over five years. Ms. Price was like family. The thought of Lucius killing her terrified him.

Without giving into his fear or thinking about what he was doing, Draco launched himself forward. The sight of a grass snake darting across the yard didn't startle anyone. That snake darting up Lucius' leg and wrapping itself around his wand arm did, however, capture everyone's attention. Lucius was distracted for a fraction of a second, which was just what the Aurors needed. A variety of things happened at once.

Spells shot at Lucius from all directions, and he started to fall. In a last-ditch effort, Lucius shot out a wild curse. Draco, still on his wand arm, had a front-row seat to watch the curse hit Ms. Price in the back. Not caring about all of the spells racing towards Lucius, Draco watched the elderly woman crumple to the ground.

As soon as Lucius hit the ground, Draco rushed over to where Ms. Price lay unconscious. The Aurors converged on Lucius' body, paying little mind to the snake which had caused the disruption.

A small group of Aurors went to tend to the unconscious woman. By then, Draco was settled on her shoulder, nudging her neck in a vain attempt to wake her. For the first time in years, he cursed his lack of magic.

One of the Aurors cast a diagnostic spell and attempted to wake the woman. Draco watched as she groaned and her eyes focused on him. She gave a weak smile and scanned the Aurors, grasping the hand of the nearest one.

"Please, take care of Drew," she breathed. Draco slithered around her shoulder in distress at the rattle in her breath. She coughed and relaxed.

The Auror whose hand she was holding began barking out orders. "Brittle bone curse. St. Mungo's, immediately. You, there! Ensure she's leapt still as you transport. Top priority! Someone find her house and look for this Drew boy-"

"Wait!"

The Auror froze and looked around for the source of the voice.

"Down here."

The Aurors suddenly noticed the snake on the ground.

"I'm Drew," the snake clearly said.

The Auror quirked a brow. "A snake," she said. "Of course the old woman wants us to look after a talking snake." Draco tried his best to give her a friendly smile.

"Looks like you've got yourself a pet, Granger!" Someone called from the back of the group of Aurors. The smile on Draco's face slipped a little as she rolled her eyes.

Draco was about to protest, to say that it was all right, really, he'd be fine on his own, when Granger, whom he now recognized, picked him up.

"This is interesting," Granger said as she studied him. "I've never heard of a snake who could speak English. Since none of us speak Parseltongue, this is very odd."

"Trust you to turn a new pet into an experiment, Hermione,' another Auror said as he walked up. Draco internally groaned as he recognized Harry Potter. He was half afraid that Hermione would keep him in a terrarium for study. He watched in surprise as Granger stuck her tongue out at Potter and turned away.

"Drew," she said, "Do you have anything that you need to pick up at your house before we leave?"

Draco thought for a moment. He had had a wonderful life with Ms. Price, and it dawned on him that this wonderful time was had without an excess of possessions. "Well," he finally said, "there are a few books that I'd like to keep. What will happen to all of her things?"

Granger smiled at him. "When she recovers and returns home, it'll all be here waiting. You can return too, if you'd like. If she decides to move in with family, then Aurors will help her pack everything to sell or move."

Draco bobbed his head as if he was nodding. It was good to know that someone would take care of her while he was gone.

As Hermione boxed up the books like he requested, Draco mused over how she already seemed much nicer than expected. He was finding her to be pleasant to talk to, something which surprised him greatly. He was also surprised by how quickly he lapsed into thinking of her as "Hermione," as introduced, rather than "Granger," as he'd known her before.

Blood purity didn't bother him anymore; why would it, if he didn't have human blood at all, pure or not? Draco did, however, expect Hermione to still be an obnoxious know-it-all. In fact, he was finding her to be intelligent and somewhat witty. Who would have known that under her mane lurked such a pleasant person? No wonder the Aurors seemed to respect and listen to her.

It didn't take long to box up Draco's books and cast a stasis charm on everything else in the house. Soon, Hermione was picking up the box of books and holding her arm out for the waiting snake. In a show of out-of-character trust, Draco slithered up her arm and came to rest on her shoulder.

"Interesting pirate you make, Hermione," Potter snorted as they left the house and joined the rest of the Aurors, who were finishing their street cleanup. Hermione snorted at Potter's statement, but didn't respond. Draco looked between the two, not understanding the reference.

Hermione walked up to an older Auror who seemed to be supervising. "Unless you have anything else for me to do, Higgins, I'll be off. I'll run Drew to my flat and head to the ministry to start the paperwork for the arrest," Hermione said.

The man nodded to her and yelled something to the Aurors across the street. Hermione took this as a dismissal, turned around, and walked away.

"I probably can't apparate with him," Hermione murmured to herself. "Floo would work, but I'd have to figure out a way not to lose him." She paused, and Draco waited, a little uncomfortable over her monologue. "Now, where can I find a floo here?"

She stopped talking, but Draco observed that she chose The Three Broomsticks. He shuddered and instinctively curled tighter as they neared Madam Rosemerta. He'd never come across her since the war, and he felt a little awkward doing it now.

"I'm going to use the Floo, if that's all right," Hermione called out, "Didn't want to apparate with a passenger."

"That's fine, dear," Rosemerta responded absently. Draco felt a surge of regret that he couldn't set things right. Draco felt conflicted. He didn't want to reveal his identity, as he enjoyed the anonymity and lack of obligations. But he desperately wanted to apologize for his past behavior and to set everything right. He suddenly felt something he never had before: the desire to make someone feel better. It was an uncomfortable feeling.

The decision was made for him as Hermione called out an address and stepped into the fireplace.

* * *

The first thing that Draco noticed was that Hermione's floo fireplace was located in her kitchen, instead of in a foyer or central room. He didn't get to observe much of the flat, because Hermione set him right on the table and grabbed a glass of water. He nearly laughed as she chugged half the glass. For the first time, he noticed how pale she was.

"No matter how many times I do it," Hermione breathed, "going up against rogue Death Eaters with a large group of Aurors terrifies me."

Draco cocked his head, curious about this new side of Granger. She's always seemed so put together when they were in school.

"And," she continued, "there were civilian casualties. Why I let Harry talk me into joining this taskforce is beyond me. I should be in my office at the Department of Magical Law and Practice right now."

She took a breath, shook herself, and smiled at her houseguest. "I'm Hermione, by the way. I guess you'll be staying with me for a while. I have to go back to the office to finish compiling the paperwork for this case, but can I get you anything before I go?"

"I'm all right for now," Draco replied, "In Hogsmeade, I kept the rodents out of Ms. Price's house and garden. You might have to transfigure some mice for me at some point.'

Hermione smiled and set a saucer of water on the table. "I'll be back later. Feel free to look around." With that, she tossed some floo powder into the fireplace, called out for the ministry, and was gone.

Draco spent the next few hours exploring Hermione's flat. It was very small, with only four rooms, but it was nice and well-kept. He marveled over the muggle technology, jumping a foot in the air when he accidentally turned on the picture box. He also quickly appreciated that he was stuck with such a competent witch, as she'd have to transfigure a lot of mice. He couldn't hear or smell any vermin in the walls.

After he got tired of reading the titles of the books on Hermione's shelves, Draco found himself pondering why he suddenly thought of her as "Hermione." She had introduced herself by her first name, and he was living with her for the foreseeable future, so he figured that he'd put in an effort to be friendly. Plus, if he insisted on calling her "Granger," she might get suspicious.

He also supposed that it had to do with the passage of time as well. Five years had been good to her. The Granger from Hogwarts and today's Hermione were incredibly different in very subtle ways. Her hair was still wildly bushy, but somehow less so than before. She stood tall and with confidence, even when she was shaken, unlike Granger, who had set out to prove herself by being an insufferable know-it-all. She also seemed incredibly stressed, which Draco found to be intriguing. The tiny, one-person flat also surprised him. He'd always assumed that she'd be mothering a number of tiny Weasleys by now.

As the sky darkened and the moon rose, Draco realized that Hermione wasn't going to be back as early as she'd thought. He dragged a chair cushion onto the hearth of her kitchen fireplace and curled up for the night. It had been a very long day, and he hoped that tomorrow would be better.

* * *

Draco awoke the next morning to a very strange noise. Something nearby was boiling, but the boiling was accompanied by hissing and plastic clicks. Fully alert, he pinpointed the noise to a black contraption that was sitting on Hermione's counter. It suddenly let out a loud DING, and Draco nearly jumped out of his skin. Hermione rushed into the room and towards the counter. Before touching the machine, she noticed Draco on the ground, looking shaken and staring at the counter warily.

She burst into laughter as she unhooked a glass pot from the machine. "Sorry, Drew," she said, pouring herself a mug of the bitter-smelling liquid. "I suppose you've never seen a coffee maker before, living in Hogsmeade. It's harmless, I promise."

Draco summoned the best "Malfoy Look of Contempt" that he could manage. The effect was lost on his serpentine face, and Hermione continued, "Most British think it's a travesty to drink coffee when a good tea will do, but I think the Italians have it right- nothing beats a good coffee if you need to wake up."

Draco looked at the clock and realized that it was only 6 am. He wondered what time Hermione had gotten in. She looked awful- more so than usual.

"What happened to the man who attacked Ms. Price?" Draco suddenly asked. He wasn't sure whether or not he cared, but he felt compelled to ask anyway.

"He's sitting at the ministry now. Gerhardt is trying to decide how to go about charging him. Don't worry, though. He's guaranteed at least some time in Azkaban." Draco watched as Hermione clenched her hand around her mug.

"The letter said that he was a dangerous fugitive. What was he doing in Hogsmeade?" Draco was trying to tread carefully. He was painfully curious as to the fate of his family, but he didn't want Hermione to suspect anything. He'd have to watch his back around her.

Hermione made a humming noise as she took a sip. "He's been on the run since the Battle of Hogwarts, at the end of the Wizarding War. We've been trying to catch him for years, figuring that he's continuing his Death Eater ways in hiding. His wife maintains the story that all he wants to do is find his only son before he faces justice. He says the same thing now that he's in custody."

"His son?"

"He's been missing since the battle, too. Harry's the last person to have seen him alive, and we later found his clothes in the Forbidden Forest. He's officially listed as dead, but his mother insists that she'd know if he died."

"So this man spent five years evading the law the sole goal of tracking down his son?"

"That's what they say. Apparently, he makes regular pilgrimages to Hogsmeade, since that's the closest he can get to the castle where his son disappeared. We just happened to find out about it this time."

Draco sat in silence. His parents had never given up on him! It was a stunning revelation, as he'd given up on them years ago. He almost felt guilty.

Hermione suddenly huffed and chugged her remaining coffee. "Sorry about venting to you, Drew. Gerhardt wants me in early today so we can work on the petition to Wizengamot for the use of Veritaserum in questioning Mr. Malfoy. It'll be a long day again. Can I get you anything before I go?"

"Err," Draco considered, "if you could conjure some mice and new water, I'd appreciate it. And there are a few books I'd like to take a look at, if you don't mind."

Hermione made quick work of replenishing his water and conjuring a small cage of mice. She then picked him up and carried him into the sitting room, which she used as a library.

"Can I have _Time and Consequences_, _Modern Arithmancy Movements_, and _Not-So-Lost Cities_? On the floor here is fine."

Hermione smiled as she grabbed the books and laid them down. "_Not-So-Lost Cities_ is one of my favorites. You have good taste, Drew."

The old Draco Malfoy would have preened and made snide comments. Now, Draco just bobbed his head with an embarrassed smile.

Hermione caught a glimpse of the clock. With a hurried, "Bye, Drew," she dashed to the kitchen and disappeared with a roar of the floo network. Draco rolled his eyes, smiled, and flicked _Not-So-Lost Cities_ open with his tail.

* * *

It was a week before Hermione finished her overtime work. Draco, meanwhile, found a routine and even began to play with all of the muggle devices that Hermione had laying around. He found daytime TV to be profoundly stupid, yet he couldn't resist tuning in every day. He was also slowly working his way through all of the books in Hermione's library.

On the third day, Draco discovered a small balcony off of the kitchen where he spent a few hours catching bugs and watching the road below. He found muggle cars to be fascinating. How did they not hit each other?

Finally, one morning, Draco woke up slowly instead of being startled awake by Hermione's coffee machine. He ate a mouse and basked in the kitchen sunbeams. He didn't see Hermione until almost noon.

She appeared in all her bushy-haired glory, wearing a ratty housecoat over pajamas. Every other time he had seen her in the mornings, she had already been dressed for work. The difference was so startling that Draco had to bite back laughter. He watched as she stumbled to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of juice, and left the room.

Draco followed her to the sitting room, where she had turned on the TV. Clearing his throat, he waited for her to notice him.

Hermione suddenly smiled at him, "Good morning, Drew. Sorry about that. Gerhardt's making me take a day off, and I guess I need it. Feel free to join me." Uncomfortable with sharing the couch with Hermione, Draco stayed on the floor. He did enjoy the movie that she had put on, though.

Once it was over, she spoke again. "Two years. All we went though, and that bastard gets the possibility of parole in as few as two years. Just because he can afford to buy off the Wizengamot. It's so frustrating!"

Draco, for his part, didn't say anything. As miserable as his father had made him, the man did apparently sacrifice five years of his life to look for him.

"And he's either telling the truth, that he's done no dark magic in five years, " Hermione continued, "or he's learned to beat Veritaserum. I honestly don't know which it is. The fall out paperwork on this alone is going to take weeks!" She let out a loud groan.

The pair lapsed into silence again.

Draco found that he wasn't sure either. His father could have easily learned to beat Veritaserum and spent five years rallying hidden Death Eaters. Just as easily, but somewhat less believable, his father could have renounced it all. Draco figured that reality was probably a gray area between the two.

For the first time, he wondered what would have happened if he'd gone to his parents for help. Or if he'd gone home instead of to Hogsmeade. He imagined that he'd be a very different person, even if he was still a snake. And for that, he was grateful that things happened the way they did.


End file.
